The Day After Yesterday
by Scared of Pennies
Summary: A hunt on christmas eve takes a turn for the worse, will Christmas be ruined for the Winchesters? Sam is 12 Dean is 16, a SFTCOLARS secret santa fic for Phx!
1. Chapter 1

**This story is for Phx, I kind of combined two prompts, hope you don't mind and sorry that it won't be finished by Christmas but I hope you enjoy it. I will try to get it finished asap. Merry Christmas!**

**The Day After Yesterday. **

Sam opened the front door and stepped inside, grateful for the rush of warmth that met him as he entered the motel room. The lone rattling radiator wasn't exactly amazing but anything was better than the biting cold from outside. He dropped his bag by his and Dean's bed and slipped off his shoes and his snow-soaked jacket. He shivered and shook off the snow flakes that had settled in his hair. The trip down to the local shops had been hazardous, the roads were icy and the local grocery store had been full of last minute Christmas shoppers and Sam had watched with a sense of longing as they wheeled around shopping carts full of vegetables, turkeys, candies, wrapping paper and other Christmas purchases whilst he trailed around with his basket full of coffee, salt and lighter fluid.

He watched with jealousy, wishing that for once his family could have a normal Christmas, be like everybody else and sit down and have a Christmas dinner or at least a tree. Sometimes Dean would get some spindly, sad looking tree and they'd dig out some cheap decorations from the 99cents store but this year they hadn't even bothered with that. He longed for normality, just to sit down and be a normal family for once when they could actually enjoy time together without barked orders, feelings of inadequacy and hunts.

As Sam set the salt, coffee and lighter fluid down on the table Dean emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, a towel around his waist.

"Hey Sammy, I uh…think I used up all the hot water. Oops." Dean said with a grin as Sam sighed heavily and collapsed down onto the bed.

"Whatever Dean, I don't care." Sam said as he stared up at the off-white ceiling and tried to block out the shouting from the room next door. He heard Dean shuffling around behind him and digging through the bags for his clothes.

"What crawled up your butt?" Dean asked as he plucked a shirt from the bags in the corner.

"You really dazzle me with your conversational skill Dean." Sam said dryly, rolling over so he was upright and lying across the bed on his front. Dean disappeared into the bathroom again but he didn't miss the call of 'eat me', muffled by the closed door. Sam snorted and let out a sigh. He thought of his friends at school, probably at home with their families together, looking forward to tomorrow.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a key in the door; he turned around as his Dad walked into the room. He looked up, catching Sam's gaze and nodded in acknowledgment, closing the door behind him.

"Did you get the things I asked you to?" John asked as he shrugged off his coat and suppressed a shiver. Sam nodded and gestured to the goods on the table.

"Good. Jeez it's cold outside. Make sure you have your winter coat for the hunt tonight, I need you and Dean to back me up." He said and Sam sat up. Dean emerged from the bathroom as if on cue.

"Wait what? A hunt?" Sam asked, confused.

"Yes Sam, the werewolves, remember? Do you listen to anything I say?" John asked as he picked up the lighter fluid and put it in his bag. Dean, now fully dressed sat on the other side of the bed.

"But Dad, tonight? It's Christmas eve!" Sam said exasperatedly. John's head shot up and he glared at Sam.

"Sam, the hunt is more important that Christmas Eve, it's just another day, it doesn't mean anything." John said lowly and Sam swallowed hard, looking away from his father's hard eyes.

"But Dad, why can't we do things like normal families. For once, why can't we do something together, celebrate Christmas properly." Sam said ignoring the warning look Dean shot across at him.

"Don't talk back to me Sam! What is this obsession of yours with 'normality'? What we do is so much more important! Why can't you have the same attitude as Dean? He knows how important the hunt is, that it's far more important than something as trivial as Christmas Eve." John retorted angrily as Sam blinked, eyes burning as he got to his feet.

"Well, I'm Sam Dad not Dean!" Sam yelled back angrily, fists clenched at his side. He saw anger spark in his father's eyes and heard Dean's exasperated sigh as he got to his feet, ready to move between then if needs be.

"Well maybe it would be better if you were more like Dean, then you wouldn't screw up so much!" John yelled back and Sam flinched away, trying to desperately to force his face into a neutral expression and to wipe away the hurt that was trying to get out. He blinked quickly and looked away.

"Whatever." He muttered and walked off, shutting himself in the bathroom, the door slamming behind him. He sat down on the corner of the bath and let the tears leak down his face, heavy and hot. He was a screw-up, the words had actually come out of his father's mouth. He couldn't do anything right, he'd never be good enough.

He sniffed, hoping Dean or his Dad couldn't hear him and let the tears flow faster. Happy Christmas Sam, he thought bitterly to himself.

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Sam struggled to walk forward against the blast of icy wind that was biting at his face. He felt numb, it was so cold and the snow was falling so thick he couldn't see anything apart from the figure of Dean ahead of him. They had split up, their Dad going one way and the two of them going to the other. They had been tracking the werewolves through the forest but the blizzard was making things almost impossible. The cold was making his bones ache and his limbs felt heavy and sluggish.

"Keep up Samantha," Dean yelled, the icy winds carrying his voice towards Sam.

"Whatever," he grumbled, heaving his legs through the thick snow, his trousers soaked through as he tried to keep up with Dean's faster pace. Dean stopped and Sam stumbled, almost falling into him.

"Look, just because you're pissed at Dad doesn't mean you have to keep acting like a bitch." Dean snapped and Sam glared up at him, hiding his hurt with anger.

"Well sorry Dean, I guess it's because I can't be more like you." He retorted bitterly and Dean rolled his eyes and continued to walk on, faster than Sam's shorter, numb legs could keep up with.

"Well Sam, Dad was right. Christmas doesn't mean anything, saving lives is more important and if you want to be selfish well than that's your problem." Dean snapped, walking ahead and not looking back at his brother. As soon as the words left his mouth he felt guilty, he knew Sam was having a hard time with their father but he just wished everything could be easy, that they'd all get along and there wouldn't be this constant divide.

Sam stopped in the snow, Dean's words stinging more than the icy wind on his face. So Dean agreed with their Dad? Dean had taken a side, something he'd never done before and it had been with his Dad.

He shook his head and blinked the burning moisture from his eyes and soldiered on, the snow falling thicker and faster. Dean was becoming a distant blob and Sam suddenly felt a hot grip of fear. He didn't know where they were going and Dean was leaving him behind. Dad would call it another screw up and it'd be another thing to hold over him, another reason why Dean was a better son than Sam.

Why couldn't Dean just slow down. Looking around, Sam suddenly noticed the lack of trees, shrubbery of well, anything. What was going on?

He tried to run forward towards Dean but it came out as more of a struggled jog against the thick snow at his feet then suddenly he felt it. Something shifted between his feet and he wobbled unsteadily, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. The ground beneath him seemed to let out something to a groan and he felt sheer panic wash over him as the ground jolted again.

Then he realized, there were no trees because they were walking across the lake.

Another groan sounded and the horrible sound of splintering filled the air and the ground beneath Sam's feet disappeared. He let out a strangled cry as he fell before he was met with a cold that felt like fire in his bones, stabbing at every inch of him as he was submerged, disorientated, confused, frozen.

He struggled but his heavy winter coat was weighing him down and the cold was numbing his brain as his struggles grew weaker and weaker. He tried to breath but icy water flooded his mouth. His last thought was of Dean and his retreating back and how he probably would never have heard him over the howling winds.

Dean.

Then everything slipped into black.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N A late Merry Christmas to everyone! Thanks so much for the awesome reviews, you all rock! So, this is for Phx because it's her (late) present and thanks to gothraven for your kind PM : ) enjoy the chapter! (My other fics will be updated asap **_**Missing **_**and **_**Gone**_

Dean shivered as he walked steadily onwards, the forward motion of his legs becoming increasingly difficult against the raging wind and snow. He swallowed hard, a feeling of guilt settling heavily in the pit of his stomach over what he had said to Sam. He hadn't meant it, he was cold and tired and Sam's and Dad's arguments had been getting on his nerves all afternoon. He knew Sam wasn't selfish, he was one of the most selfless kids he knew but he was just different, different in a way that he and his father found difficult to understand.

He'd seen the hurt flit across his brother's face once the words had left his mouth and now he felt terrible. He was the one Sam could always rely on to be there for him when their dad wasn't and now he was just someone else telling Sam he wasn't good enough.

The wind was howling loudly and his face was stinging with the cold, he just wanted to get this hunt over with so they could go home. As he took another pace forward he heard a distant cry over the raging winds. He frowned and turned around.

He couldn't see anything.

Wait, he couldn't see _anything_. Where was Sam?

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked frantically around but there was no sign of Sam, only white. Shit.

"Sam? Sammy?" He yelled over the wind, running forward but finding no sign of Sam. He broke into a sprint, looking around frantically and calling out his brother's name, voice growing hoarse when he saw a dark shape on the ground up ahead. He ran forward and skidded to a halt. His mouth went dry and the air seemed to disappear from his lungs as he saw the hole in the ice.

"SAM!" He yelled, dropping down onto his knees and looking desperately into the dark water below. He'd bought them across the lake for Christ's sake, how stupid could he get.

"SAMMY!" He yelled, praying his brother would walk up behind him laughing at him for falling for his stupid prank, he'd yell at Sam, they'd laugh it off and it would go back to normal.

He plunged his arms into the icy water, ignoring the needle-sharp sensation of the minus temperatures as he grasped around blindly. His hand was met with nothing but water and he felt the beginning prickling of tears at his eyes.

"C'mon…please." He begged brokenly. He shrugged off his jacket and plunged his arm deeper, up to the shoulder. He was readying to jump in when he felt it, the brush of sodden material against his fingertips. Straining deeper, he reached down and grasped what felt like the hood of Sam's coat and wrenched it upwards as hard as he could. Both hands on Sam's coat he pulled the heavy, drenched pre-teen from the water and out across the ice.

Panting, breath rising in silver plumes he turned Sam over. His eyes were closed, dark lashes, clogged with water droplets, lay against pale skin. His dark hair was matted against his forehead and his lips were blue. The initial relief from pulling his brother out vanished when Dean noticed Sam wasn't breathing.

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John crouched silently behind the snow-dusted shrubbery and watched carefully, shotgun in hand, as the wolf crept slowly through the trees. The wolf stilled, sensing a present and sniffed the air, looking around as John held his breath. Yellow eyes settled on his and he swore under his breath as the beast came bounding towards him with a roar.

Heart hammering, he lifted the gun and fired. Dead-centre, right between the eyes. The wolf fell backwards, still in the snow and John smiled. They were due to meet at the clearing soon. He hoped Sam and Dean had as much luck with the other werewolf.

As John heard a low growl from behind him, he guessed they hadn't

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Dean frantically pressed his fingers against his brother's neck, wincing at the frigid flesh and waited with baited breath, praying to feel those familiar thumps.

He felt nothing and he felt bile rise in his throat. He must have the wrong place, he must not be doing it right, he thought panicking as he replaced his fingers but yet still felt nothing. His brother wasn't breathing, he didn't have a pulse. Dean had let him drown. Dean had called him selfish, walked off without checking Sam was keeping up and let his little brother drown.

No, he wasn't going to let this happen.

He unzipped Sam's soaked coat with trembling, fumbling fingers and tilted his brother's limp head backwards. Hands still shaking, he pinched his brother's nose and placed his lips over his brother's cold and blue ones, breathing two quick breaths for him before knotting his hands together and pumping a round of quick compressions. He breathed again for him then another round of compressions, praying that Sam would respond.

Nothing.

He breathed again, desperately pumping on his brother's chest. Scalding tears filled his eyes, vision blurred as he did another round of compressions. Heavy, hot tears rolled down his cheeks, freezing on his face as his chest hitched with a suppressed sob.

"C'mon Sammy…Sam…please," he begged, voice trembling as he bent down and breathed again for Sam. Nothing. He pumped out another round of compressions, arms shaking with fatigue and desolate defeat. He refused to give up. Sam wasn't dead. He couldn't be. He wasn't allowed to die, he wasn't allowed to leave Dean behind.

"Please," he whispered brokenly.

He pushed another breath into Sam's lungs and drew away, tears rolling faster when he heard a small cough and Sam's body lurched. Dean immediately rolled Sam sideways as he expelled mouthfuls of water, coughing and choking as it rushed from his throat.

As Sam lay there, gasping, eyes half mast Dean felt a rush of relief so strong that his head started to spin. He gathered his brother's shivering frame up into his arms and held him tightly, pressing him close to his body and rocking him gently.

"It's okay, it's okay Sammy…you're okay." He whispered, mouth pressed to his brother's wet hair as he trembled in his arms.

Sam merely uttered a low moan in response, whole body wracked by violent shivers. Dean felt a shift in the ice and his heart leapt into his throat. They needed to move before they both fell under.

"Sam…we need to get off the ice." He said urgently, pulling his brother's limp body upwards. His gaze was slow and his movements uncoordinated and Dean knew that wasn't a good sign. It wasn't over yet, Sam wasn't out of danger.

Dean slung Sam's arm around his shoulder and looped his around his small waist and began to half run across the ice over to the trees at the side where he knew solid ground would be. It was a struggle; Sam hung like a dead weight from his arm, struggling to lift his feet as Dean tried to drag them both as fast as he could.

He could hear ice splintering behind him and he willed himself to move faster, pushing past the exhaustion and soldiering onwards. Finally they reached the trees and they both collapsed in a heap at the base of a large oak tree, panting with exertion.

Catching his breath, Dean looked across at Sam and swore when he saw his lips were still slightly blue and he was shivering violently. The water in his hair had crystallised into ice and snow. His eyes were closed again. Dean pulled off Sam's coat which was cold and heavy with water and pulled off his own, he wrapped it around Sam's shoulders, bundling it around him like a blanket.

He tapped Sam's face gently, wincing at the iciness of his skin, it was the same temperature as the air around them.

"Sam…C'mon buddy, I need you to stay awake for me," He said loudly, still gently tapping Sam's face which caused him to frown and let out a low groan.

"That's it sleeping beauty," he smiled weakly as Sam slowly opened his eyes. They looked slowly around, a frown still on his face as he seemed to try to comprehend where he was.

"Dean?" He questioned groggily. Dean offered a watery smile in return

"Yeah Sammy, I'm here. It's okay," He said softly, flinching at Sam's shivers that seemed to wrack his whole body.

"C…cold," Sam mumbled between shivers, eyes slipping closed again. Dean tapped him, harder this time, and Sam's eyes slid open again.

"Well that's what you get for going swimming in a lake in December Sammy. Seriously, if you scare me like that again, I'll kick your ass into next year." He warned, rubbing his brother's arms through the coat, hoping to inject some warmth into him.

Sam's eyes slid closed again and Dean swore and shook his brother as gently as possible and Sam's eyes opened, this time with more difficulty.

"Sam you need to stay awake! Keep your eyes open!" Dean ordered, sounding suspiciously like his father. Sam looked up at him, trembling and eyes wide.

"I'm s…sorry," He whispered, voice shaking with each shiver. It wasn't until Dean looked into his brother's eyes that he realised he was crying. Sam's hazel eyes were pooling with tears, spilling down his pale cheeks as his breath hitched.

"I didn't mean to…I did…didn't have time to move and…the ice it was…I sc…screwed up again, I ruined the hunt. You…You should just g…go. Go and help Dad." He stammered between hitched breaths, tears coursing down his cheeks. Dean looked away, hating seeing his brother upset and swallowed hard, ignoring the lump in his throat.

"Sam, stop it! This isn't your fault, you didn't screw up! It was me who was leading us the wrong way, I took us across the ice. So Shutup, I'm not leaving you here okay?" Dean said firmly as Sam sniffed and nodded weakly, breathing raggedly as tears continued to stream down his cheeks. Dean pulled Sam upright and hugged him tightly, cursing the damage he and his father had done as Sam shivered against him. It was like hugging an ice block.

"You're such a girl." He muttered and Sam laughed weakly against Dean's shoulder. They sat like that for a while, Dean hoping to transfer some body heat to warm Sam up.

He had no idea where they were or how long they had been here, he just needed to get Sam warm, he needed their Dad. He looked down at Sam and felt bile rise in his throat again, panic rising as he noticed Sam had stopped shivering. Most would see that as a good sign but Dean knew better. If the shivering stopped it meant it wasn't serving its purpose to produce heat, it meant the body was giving up as it was expending too much energy.

Shit.

He placed two fingers on Sam's neck and felt his chest tighten, his pulse was slow. Too slow. Sam was shutting down and if he wasn't careful he'd lose him soon. Trying not to panic, Dean pulled off his hat and jammed it on Sam's head, he was wearing thick clothing so the cold wasn't getting to him yet, Sam was more important. They needed to find their Dad.

"Sam, wake up. Sam…wake up for me Sam."

He shook Sam and tapped his face again but Sam merely moaned, slurring out 'Dean'. Dean had made his mind up, they needed more shelter and they needed Dad. Screw the hunt and maintaining position and the advantage, Sam needed help and Sam took priority over anything else. He heaved Sam up into his arms, staggering slightly as he began to walk as fast as he could deeper into the forest where the trees could provide more cover. He set Sam down again at the base of a tree and sat down next to him, heart hammering at Sam's blue skin and slow breaths.

He dug around in his bag and pulled out his cell phone and dialed the familiar number, staying close to Sam, huddled against him, he heard the voice mail message. He could hear the line crackling and he had no idea if his Dad would actually get this message but he had to try.

"Dad, it's Dean…please we need help. Sam he…he fell through some ice and…we're lost and we need you. Please come, Sam needs help." He begged, ending the call and praying his father would get the message and figure out a way to get them out of this mess.

In the meantime he had to do his best for Sam. He unzipped the coat he had given Sam and pulled him forward so he was practically on his lap. He slid his arms into the coat and around Sam's torso so they were effectively hugging, chests touching. Skin to skin contact would hopefully help enough to keep Sam going until they got help.

Sam had to keep going, Dean wouldn't be able to without Sam.

He sat there in the snow, holding his brother for dear life unaware that a figure lurked in the surrounding trees, yellow eyes watching hungrily and waiting.


	3. Chapter 3

tosses fic out of car window and speeds off ashamed at terrible lateness

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John staggered to his feet panting heavily, his breath rising in smoky silver plumes as he raised a hand and tenderly touched the gash across his forehead, wincing as the flesh pulled and he felt the sticky presence of blood. He swore angrily, he couldn't believe he had let the werewolf get the better of him. He'd missed his shot and let it get away, now it could be anywhere and it would take too long to track it again.

He sighed heavily, picking up his bag and trudging through the snow, ignoring the sting of the blizzard against his face. Where were Sam and Dean anyway? They were supposed to meet him in the clearing. He didn't know where his sons were and there was a werewolf on the loose in the forest. This hunt wasn't going as planned. He unzipped his bag with difficulty, and pulled out his phone.

He squinted down at the screen, snowflakes settling on the glass making it hard to see but he could see the blinking signal of a new message. He held the phone up to his ear.

The message began to play but the howling wind meant he could barely catch the garbled words over the phone. The line crackled and listening hard, willing the wind to stop he caught a few words.

"Dad….help…Sam…ice and…need…please…Sam…help."

Even above the howling wind John could hear the desperation in his son's voice, a panic he rarely heard. Help. They needed help. Christ, something had gone wrong and John had no idea where they were. Keeping his phone in his hand in case it rang again, he broke into a sprint, limbs soldiering through the thick snow as he ran, calling for his sons and ignoring the fact that he was making himself an open target. But he didn't care, better the wolf found him than Dean or Sam.

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Dean grasped his little brother's limp form tightly, holding him close to himself and rocking slightly, willing for his brother to just open his eyes, or for their Dad to turn up and make everything okay, he'd know what to do. He needed Sam to wake up, he needed to tell him that he didn't think he was selfish, he needed to take back what he'd said. He didn't mean it.

"Sammy." He whispered brokenly, rubbing his brother's arms hard hoping to inject some warmth into them.

"Please." He begged brokenly, staring down at Sam's impassive, still face. Snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes, ice in his hair.

The wind was roaring in his ears but he could hear something else, a twig snapped behind him and he stiffened. Gripping Sam harder and closer to his own body, he strained his ears, his other hand reaching surreptitiously into his pocket and gripping the gun's cool metal.

He heard the noise again and a low growl and fear paralysed him, he needed to protect Sam. One hand holding Sam close to him, the other on the gun as he slowly swiveled and came face to face with the wolf, yellow eyes looming, growling.

Dean stared, willing his hand to stop trembling as he pointed the gun and cocked the trigger. It was this noise that seemed to spur the wolf into action. It leapt forward, snarling, all teeth and fur and Dean fumbled, pressing the trigger but the shot went wide and suddenly the wolf was on top of them. Dean went backwards and he heard a dull thud as Sam's head impacted with the tree. He felt claws slash at his arm and fire erupted on his skin, he raised the gun but before he could press the trigger another gunshot erupted through the air, loud as thunder and Dean saw the wolf stiffen before rolling sideways off him.

He lay there, panting heavily, eyes blurred with tears as he struggled to catch his breath, arm stinging and head reeling. Then he suddenly realised what was missing.

"Sammy!" He called out, turning around and finding Sam lying still, slumped against the tree. He crawled through the snow, his heart hammering. He reached his brother and pulled his limp form up into his arms when he saw the smear of red on the back of his hair. He gently touched the back of his head and felt the lump forming under his too-long hair.

He heard fast footsteps and before he even had time to think about grabbing a gun or something to protect himself with his father dropped down to his knees in front of him and he felt a wave of relief pass over him, so strong that his head swam. His Dad was here, he'd know what to do. He'd help Sam.

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John swallowed hard as he gripped the warm, smoking gun and stared down at the crumpled figure of the werewolf. He breathed in and out deeply, chest heaving as he blinked quickly. If he had been a few seconds too late, just half a second later it might have been too late. He could have lost his children.

Tearing his gaze away from the wolf he felt his stomach drop as Dean scrambled through the snow towards Sam. Sam wasn't moving. The temperature of the already frozen air seemed to plummet and John's mouth went suddenly dry.

Oh god, what if he hadn't been fast enough, what if it had got Sammy and he hadn't seen. What if he'd been bitten? He shook the possibilities out of his head and ran forward. His heart in his throat, he dropped to his knees next to Dean and stared down at Sam's pale face, eyes closed, dark lashes standing out starkly against his pallid skin. It took a few moments of sheer panic before his instincts kicked in and took control. He placed his fingers gently on Sam's neck and winced at the icy skin.

_Pulse is slow, too slow_

John visibly checked for any signs of injury and could see no gashes or scratches…but then why was Sam like this?

"Dean." He said softly. Dean flinched but did not meet his father's gaze.

"Dean, tell me what happened." He tried again, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder but Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from Sam. He could feel his eldest son trembling and he knew he was in shock. He needed to get his children to safety.

"Dean, I need to know what happened so I can help Sammy." John said slowly. Dean shivered, still clutching at Sam before swallowing hard.

"He uh…we went the wrong way and…he fell, he fell through the ice." Dean stammered and John could hear the crack in his voice as he fought to suppress tears. He felt his throat go dry as he looked down at Sam's pale face and the ice in his hair, he knew he needed to get Sam warmed up before it was too late. He couldn't lose his son, not his little boy, especially after all the things he had said, things he didn't mean. He wanted to give Sam normal, he really did. He didn't want this for his kids, he didn't want to drag them around the country but this was what he had to do, he had to find the thing that had killed his wife, killed their mother. Right now, all he needed to do was save his children.

"Come on Dean, we need to get Sammy warm." He said, shrugging his parka off his shoulders and wrapping it around Sam before pulling off his jumper and putting it around Dean who looked up at him confused.

"Dean you're shivering, keep it on," he said gruffly, gently scooping Sam up into his arms. Even under the coats he could feel the cold from his son's small body. He wasn't going to lose Sam, he would not let his son die, he wouldn't lose him with Sam thinking he was a screw-up.

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Dean felt empty as Sam was taken out of his arms by his father but relieved at the same time, Dad was taking control, he'd fix this. He'd fix Dean's mess. His father was jogging ahead, Sam in his arms and Dean was struggling to keep up. He could tell his Dad was angry, he probably blamed him for letting this happen. He had a right to. This was his fault. He was angry at Sam and he'd walked ahead, left him behind.

He'd called him selfish. Hell, Sam was one of the most selfless kids he knew, he was just different to Dean and Dad and it was hard to remember sometimes.

He struggled through the snow in his father's wake, pulling his Dad's jumper tighter around himself to fight the cold. The trees were thinning out as they got towards the edge of the forest and without the protection of the trees the snow was falling thicker and faster.

He could see the Impala up ahead, blanketed in snow but looking more beautiful than ever, the Impala meant heat, help, help for Sam. John unlocked the car and opened the door, sliding Sam into the backseat. He hurried around and opened the trunk pulling out some blankets and tossing them to Dean.

"Dean get in the back with Sam." John barked. Starting the engine and immediately turning up the heat. Dean numbly slid into the car and pulled Sam closer to him, he pulled the blankets around his limp form and rested his head in his lap.

His fingers found themselves threading through Sam's long, wet bangs like he hadn't done in years. He could feel the heat radiating from the front of the car and looking out the window he realised how fast his father was driving. White, snow laced scenery whipped past and Dean pressed the other blanket against the back of Sam's head, blood still seeping from the cut. The lack of reaction on Sam's face, even as he pressed hard against the wound made Dean's chest tighten. He kept his gaze on the ragged rise and fall of Sam's chest, reassuring himself that his brother was still breathing.

He glanced down at his watch and swallowed. It was three minutes past midnight.

Merry Fucking Christmas Sammy.

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A/N One chapter left in this probably, more guilt and angst and a little sappy fluff too.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N I would just like to extend my sincere apologies to Phx for this fic being completed so late after it's due date, I wont bore you with my excuses so yeah, sorry and ignoring the terrible lateness, I hope you enjoyed this fic. This is the last chapter, I sat down and made myself finish it today so, thank you to everybody who read and reviewed this fic, thank you and I hope you enjoy the ending! Thanks and sorry Phx! I'll make up for it somehow

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The Impala skidded to a halt outside the Winchester's motel room, the tyres protesting loudly at the sudden stop as John killed the engine and threw open the car door. He hurried around to the backseat and opened the door. He reached forward and took Sam out of Dean's arms, the blankets and coats bundled around the skinny, young boy and ran towards their door.

He fumbled with the keys; hands shaking as he unlocked the door and pushed it open with his foot. Sam felt like a block of ice in his arms, the cold radiating even through the thick layers they had piled on top of him. Entering the room he immediately lay Sam down on the bed and he heard the door close behind him as Dean entered, looking wet, tired and exhausted with worry as his wide eyes gazed at the small figure on the bed.

"Dean, I need you to run a bath of lukewarm water…now!" John barked at his eldest son, not meaning to snap at him but he needed to get him moving and Dean appeared to be in shock, unable to tear his eyes away from his brother.

Dean, flinching at his father's hard voice immediately sprang to action, hurrying to the small bathroom and turning on the taps. He swallowed hard as he placed a hand under the flowing water, testing the temperature. He couldn't get the image of Sam, lying motionless, pale and still on the bed. His brother, so usually full of life and movement, who never stood still was just lying there. This was his fault. He needed Sam to be okay, he was his little brother and Dean was supposed to be his big brother, it was his job, his job to look out for him and make sure nothing happened to him. He had bee entrusted with this role and he had failed and Sam was the one suffering because of it.

Dean knew about the dangers of hypothermia, hearts could just stop beating because of the cold, brain damage. He knew how important it was to warm the person up gradually but it didn't stop him from wanting to just engulf Sam in warmth, warm him up now so he could have his brother back and not have to sit here and watch and wait, feeling completely and utterly useless.

He'd always had control over the situation, been able to do something to make Sam feel better, when he was younger he'd be able to just make him laugh so Sam would forget that he'd scraped his knees, reading him a book would make him feel better when he was sick but this, this Dean had no control over, he couldn't do anything to make Sam feel better and it was killing him that Sam was suffering.

But most of all, he just wanted Sam to wake up and be okay so he could say sorry, tell him that he wasn't selfish because the thought of Sam thinking that Dean had meant those words was worse than anything else.

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John tightened the blankets around Sam and stroked his hair softly. Sam didn't move or make a sound beneath his touch. He placed his hand underneath his head and gently probed the large bump and the tacky blood on the back of his son's head and he swore softly under his breath. How could he have let things get this far?

What kind of father was he? What would Mary think of him now? It was Christmas day and rather than his kids looking forward to a day with family and presents and all the things they used to do, here he was sitting in a dingy motel room, his youngest son injured and freezing and probably thinking that his father hated him.

John's eyes burned and his vision blurred as he stroked Sam's too long hair. Sam's hair had just been another one of their constant battle, Sam refusing to get it cut short the way Dean's was, just another way to defy John. But John knew it wasn't just insolent defiance, it was independence, Sam was sick of being compared to Dean, having to live up to Dean which was a weight that John had put on his shoulders and this was just a way of being different, not being Dean and Sam craving the attention that he never really received.

Where had it all started to go wrong? When had John started to put the hunt over the welfare of his own children, the only part of Mary he had left?

_Well maybe it would be better if you were more like Dean, then you wouldn't screw up so much_

Since Mary died his temper was always so close to the surface, his slow burn fuse had turned into a short one and he lashed out without thinkingSam was, it was just that Sam was so different to Dean. He understood Dean but Sam, Sam was so complicated and he just…he just didn't know how to deal with him. Sam was…he was too much like Mary for his own good.

Dean gave a shout from the other room that the bath was ready and John bundled Sam back into his arms and carried him over to the bathroom. Once Sam was warmed up and stitched up, he'd make things right.

----------------------

Somewhere from the recesses of his muddled mind, Sam was aware of a tingling sensation, starting at his toes and working its way up his body. He didn't want to open his eyes, his head was pounding and his eyelids felt like lead.

The tingling sensation grew more pronounced and began to feel uncomfortable, liking something was prickling all over his skin. His stomach was churning and his head was throbbing, he needed to wake up but his eyes didn't seem to co-operate.

The tingling became a burning that now felt like fire erupting over the surface of his skin and Sam let out a moan and tried to move, to get away from the pain stabbing at him all over his body. His eyes burst open and light flooded his vision causing his a spike of agony to shoot through his head, he screwed his eyes shut and felt tears seeping from underneath, hot on his face and burning like the rest of his body as he cried.

Who was doing this to him? He wanted Dad, he wanted Dean.

------------------

Dean resisted the urge to pry Sam out of his father's grip and pull him out of the water as he watched Sam's weak struggles, heard his moans of pains and saw the tears leaking from his eyes. Sam was hurting.

He blinked the moisture from his eyes and leant forward and placed a hand on Sam's forehead and whispered soothingly to him, trying to calm Sam down as John held him up in the water.

"It's okay Sammy…It's okay it's nearly over." He whispered as Sam stilled, slipping back into sleep or unconsciousness.

"Dean, get some towels." John said and Dean complied, bringing them over to John who began to get Sam out of the bath, stripping off his wet clothes and wrapping him in warm towels. Sam would have been embarrassed if he had been aware for the whole process.

Once John had pulled a thick jumper and some sweatpants over Sam he placed him on the bed under the blankets from the other beds. The head wound wouldn't need stitching which was the only stroke of luck. They'd just have to sit and wait for Sammy to wake up.

John glanced at the clock on the nightstand and frowned as he saw it was already morning, Sam was probably going to sleep right through Christmas Day. Another Happy Winchester Christmas he thought bitterly and looked across at Dean who was sitting on the other bed, yawning.

"Dean, why don't you get some sleep kid?" He said softly. Dean looked up and shook his head.

"No, I'll watch Sammy it's okay." He said, blinking forcefully to try and erase the tiredness and ease the heaviness of his eyelids.

"Dean, Sam's not going to be awake for a while. You won't be any good to him if you pass out, get some sleep and I'll watch him. I'll tell you when he wakes up okay?" John said and Dean stared at him, thinking before finally nodding.

"Merry Christmas Dad." Dean said with a small smile. John winced and swallowed the lump settling in his throat.

"Merry Christmas Dean."

-------------------

Sam was distinctly aware of feeling extremely heavy. He couldn't really move properly, it felt like a weight was resting on top of him. Swallowing with difficulty, he slowly opened his eyes and found himself staring up at a stained, off-white ceiling.

The Motel Room, he thought. His mind seemed to be turning slowly, it felt like his head was full of cotton wool. He felt like roadkill, what the hell had happened?

Then he remembered, the hunt, the ice…shit Dad was going to be pissed. He'd screwed up _again_. He turned his head and saw the clock glowing in the semi-darkness. 9am. Sam sighed, great so he'd spend Christmas Day getting chewed out by his Dad for screwing up on a hunt, putting himself and everyone else in danger…the usual. Not that he should expect anything different, it's not like Christmas meant the same thing to the Winchesters as it did to everyone else.

He let out a soft sigh, he didn't want to face Dean and Dad. He didn't want to see their disappointment, their words still rang in his head. He struggled to sit up and realised the heaviness was coming from the pile of blankets that lay on top of him. His head swam as he sat up and he stopped to catch his breath, the spots disappearing from his vision before attempting to swing his legs around and get out of bed.

"Hey Sammy, what are you doing?" Dean said, suddenly appearing from the kitchenette and startling Sam.

"I was going to get a drink," Sam said.

"I'll get you one before you fall on your face. You feeling okay? You got knocked around a bit last night, not to mention the impromptu trip into the lake you took. Not your wisest move." Dean said with a smile, handing Sam a glass of water.

"How's your head?" He asked as he saw Sam frown with pain.

"It's not that bad." Sam lied and Dean frowned dubiously.

"Fine, it hurts, happy?" Sam relented, sitting against the pillows. Dean disappeared and reappeared with some pills which he passed to Sam and watched as he swallowed them.

"Where's Dad?" Sam asked, suppressing a yawn and shivering slightly. Dean seeing his brother's shiver pulled the blankets higher over his brother.

"Stay under those, I don't want to relive Sam the human popsicle okay?" Dean said with a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Dad's gone to go pick up a few things, he'll be back soon."

Sam nodded and winced when a sharp pain flared through his head. How could Dad have gone to pick stuff up? Wasn't everything closed on Christmas Day?

"Is he mad? About the hunt?" Sam ventured. Dean looked up in surprise.

"Why would he be mad?"

"Because I screwed up…_again_, because I can't be more like you and…" Sam trailed off, a painful lump forming in his throat and he blinked quickly.

"You know what Sam, for someone who is supposed to be smart, you can be amazingly stupid sometimes. Of course he isn't angry, it wasn't your fault. If anything it was mine, I was the one leading us in the wrong direction. He was worried about Sam, I've never seen him that worried and this bullshit about being like me? I mean I can understand you wanting to _look_ like me but…Dad was just in a bad mood and he took it out on you, you know he doesn't mean half the stuff he says." Dean said, sitting next to Sam on the bed as Sam looked down, fiddling with a loose thread in the blankets.

"Everyone was in a bad mood yesterday, it's just the holidays and Sam…I didn't mean what I said either you know?" Dean said softly and Sam swallowed hard, his eyes burning. He nodded, ignoring the throb behind his eyes as he did so.

"Anyway Sammy, Happy Christmas and all that. Now this giant chick-flick moment is over, I think Dad said something about a new hunt so I think he's looking into that and he'll probably want our help with research later." Dean said and Sam's face fell. They were going to spend the day stuck in a motel room probably watching crap TV whilst their Dad looked for another hunt and then stuck researching, trawling through newspapers etc. He knew better than to make a fuss, look where it had gotten him last time so he stayed quiet, merely made a noise of assent and burrowed deeper under the covers and within moments, he had slipped back to sleep.

-------------------

When Sam awoke again it was one o'clock in the afternoon and it was the sound of the front door closing that had startled him awake. Looking up he saw his Dad walk through the door with several bags which he set down on the floor.

"Hey Sammy, how are you feeling kiddo?" John said as he slipped off his shoes and padded over to the bed and placed a hand on Sam's forehead. Sam blinked, surprised at the affection his dad was showing him, where was the yelling? The disappointment and the speech about screwing up?

"Um…okay I guess." He stammered out and John nodded.

"You hungry?" He asked and Sam nodded, his stomach felt completely empty. He was starving. Maybe Dad was trying to butter him up because they were moving again…Sam didn't get it, especially after what Dad had said to him before.

"Good because I got us some turkey sandwiches and some pie." John said motioning to the bags by the door.

"Sounds good." Sam said, a smile splitting across his face as Dean came over and sat on the other bed and John took the sandwiches from the bag and passed them one each. Dean ripped off the wrapping and immediately took a huge bite, his mouth bulging with food. Sam made a face of mock disgust.

"Pig." He muttered as he took a normal sized bite of his own sandwich. Dean grinned, food hanging out of his mouth.

"That's gross! Dean you're disgusting." Sam said resisting the urge to smile.

"I aim to please Samantha." Dean replied with an infectious grin.

"Happy Christmas Boys." John said and Sam smiled.

"Happy Christmas." Sam replied, feeling warm. Maybe Dad and Dean understood that it wasn't the whole spread, the presents at Christmas that he wanted. He just wanted a day away from the hunting, the constant training and moving around where they could just sit together and be a family, a dysfunctional family but a family nonetheless.

---------------------------------

Sam sat on the bed as the credits to the movie they'd rented rolled across the screen, Dean was snoring to the right of him and John was sleeping soundly to the left. They'd finished their Winchester style Christmas dinner and their Dad had given them a few small presents, Dean got a new hunting knife and few Metallica tapes and Sam had been given a copy of The Lord of The Rings to replace the one he'd left in Oregon and a Swiss army knife.

Sam grabbed the remote and turned off the film, flicking briefly through the channels. He caught a glimpse of the news and left it on, pulling the blankets up around him.

"It's Friday the 26th December and this is the eight o'clock news…"

Sam stopped and frowned, he must have heard wrong. The 26th? But it was Christmas day...

He stopped and realised. He'd slept through Christmas day, not surprising with a concussion and he'd completely missed Christmas. Dean and Dad hadn't said anything, pretending that he hadn't missed anything.

Sam grinned and turned off the TV. He could leave it a few days before letting them know that he'd found out, in the mean time he just wanted to enjoy one of the few moments of normalcy that his family got.

* * *

A/N The End! Hope you enjoyed the fic and thanks for the support and reviews and everything! I'll be updating Missing soon and then Gone which I have a huge case of Writer's Block for...anyway, thanks! Sorry for the cheese 


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